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Sunday, March 9, 2014

How was your Saturday evening? Did you imbibe a bit too much with a vintage friend and now you're feeling a bit cold and shaky wondering why you suggested to your brand new biker friends that Tequila would be the perfect nightcap after a plate of something so greasy you couldn't actually make out what you were devouring?

No? Maybe that was just me. However, whether you are cold and shaky, or warm and snuggling up to your computer with your favourite cuppa, everyone can you always be hotter. And really, is there a better way to heat up your Sunday than having Raven McAllan stop by your blog? She, a most prolific writer, is busy writing naughty tales of lovely ladies going to school to learn how to do...oh...all sorts of interesting things.

Who's turn is it now? Please join me now in welcoming Raven who is here today on Ivy B to give us a peak at Miss Simpkins' School for Seduction - Miranda.

Take it away Raven!
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Hi Ivy, a big thank you for letting me pop over today and tell you a little bit about the latest Miss Simpkins' School for Seduction book. Where Seduction's the game and success is the aim

When Miranda first demanded I told her story I never realized it would be so much fun.

As ever I have a heroine with a mind of her own. She knows what she wants and is determined to get it…

Blurb for Miss Simpkins' School - Miranda

Lessons learned at Miss Simpkins' School is just the education Miranda needs to learn how to seduce her reluctant Lord. Or is it?

Miranda may be a well brought up lady, but she has needs, and she is determined to go after who she wants.

Enlisting the help of Miss Simpkins and her School for Seduction, she sets out to tempt Felix. Men can be so difficult sometimes, and not see what's right under their nose.

It falls to her to show him that age is just a number. She may be young, but she knows what she wants. And she is determined to get it.

Will Felix be able to resist temptation, or will he finally see sense and claim what's been his all along.

Little does Miranda know what Felix has in store for her.

For that matter little does Felix know what Miranda know what she has in store for him.

And now an excerpt....

The bag over his head took him by surprise. Before he had time to react his arms were bound to his side, and then someone kicked his feet from under him. In his soft house shoes he was powerless to kick out and injure. He did his best to relax to cushion his fall. The last thought he had was he hoped to hell he didn’t topple down the stairs.

He didn’t. Before he hit the floor, strong arms held him horizontal, something rough—rope he surmised—was wrapped around his ankles. How he wished he had his top boots on, it would have been so much harder for him to be secured. Resigned for the moment, he assumed he was carried along the corridor. Even though he knew the house as well as his own, unsighted, and with his hearing muted, he was hard pressed to tell just where they were.

Ever the fatalist, he mentally shrugged and awaited his fate, whatever it might be. It seemed someone was having a laugh at his expense.

Kidnap? Unlikely in this house. Mistaken identity? Also unlikely. Her? He thought of the tormentor of his dreams. Surely not. She is not capable of executing such a thing.

Several minutes later he wasn’t quite so insouciant about everything. He was still being carried. They had, as far as he could tell under the circumstances, descended a long flight of stairs and ascended a shorter one, entered and also exited several rooms. Sometimes the footsteps of whoever carried him sounded heavy and hollow, at other times he heard nothing at all. Without reverberations, he assumed that sometimes they moved over carpeted floor and others bare boards. It was no help. His host’s house was old and had a mish mash of floors and coverings in no particular order. They could be going around in circles for all he knew.

His captor, he decided that was the best name applicable, halted and through the fusty material that enveloped him, Felix heard several faint door hinge squeaks and dull thuds. The dust and fibers over his face made breathing ever more difficult, and his mouth was dry. If I’m not released soon, I won’t have to worry about my knotty problems. I’ll be deceased and Soutar can deal with the lot of them.

That morbid thought didn’t sit well with him. Instead he began to get annoyed. Whatever was happening had been going on far too long, and it was no longer a joke. As his captor paused once more Felix kicked out. The curse he heard was loud enough to cut through his covering like a knife through butter, and it was good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon. The jarring went up his leg, travelled through his body, and made his teeth rattle.

“Give over, you’ll get hurt.”

Felix wondered if he recognized the voice, and decided he didn’t care. If it was who he thought it was, he deserved the kick for his roughness. If it wasn’t, he deserved the kick anyway. He struck out again and to his delight his bound feet connected with a body. He could only hope he’d got him in the bollocks.

“I warned you.” The thump to his head was worthy of any devotee of Jackson’s Boxing salon.

Bugger, that wasn’t in the plan. It was Felix’s last thought before he saw stars and then nothing else.